Passion Spent
by Noirissime
Summary: Because of his father Draco Malfoy now spends his days in a brothel, until an unexpected costumer pays him a visit. HarryDraco. Written Before HBP
1. Chapter 1

Title: Passion Spent (1? Probably 2-3)

Summary: Because of his father Draco Malfoy now spends his days in a brothel, until an unexpected costumer comes to visit him. Harry/Draco.

Genre: Drama

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Words: 4.196

Special Thanks to: TracyLooWho & TwoTwenty

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_It is hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head._

Sally Kempton

_Sucker love is heaven sent.  
You pucker up, our passion's spent.  
My hearts a tart, your body's rent.  
My body's broken, yours is bent_.

Placebo ♥

**Passion Spent**

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He inhaled deeply, sucking as much oxygen into his body as possible. They came, laughed and now they'd left; finally leaving him alone again. It still wasn't easy, but it was becoming almost bearable to deal with the humiliation every week.

Although he dreaded each new day to come, he didn't give up. One day he would have himself back, one day his body would be his again. Images flashed through his head, some of them he could barely remember. Yet each one had left its mark. Some left Scars, some bruises and some even left him with a broken bone or two. It was nothing that couldn't be fixed. Nothing that couldn't be hidden. His skin was always flawlessly white and fragile.

He looked out of the window again, staring into space. He tried not to look at the people who were passing him by. He was scared to recognize and to be recognized. Customers found him intriguing and mysterious, he found them perverts and felt like biting off their dicks. He hated every man that came to 'visit' him with passion. He hated the people behind the glass even more. They would stare at him, with lust or disgust. Every now and then he would be recognized and there would be pity or laughter. He despised both reactions; he did not need pity and could not stand to be laughed at.

Every Friday night the whole Gryffindor gang would come by, presumably on their way to some nightclub. They would shout and make gestures at him, eventually becoming bored once they'd taken their pound of flesh. Draco couldn't hear the words through the thick glass. He didn't need to, the looks of hatred on their faces said more than words ever could. It repeated itself every week and Draco hated it. He hated them. Every Friday night he silently swore that he would have his revenge.

There was a soft knock on the door that made Draco sigh. It was probably Mr. Pathetically-small-dick again, who was always shy. Draco had nicknames for almost all his loyal customers, he couldn't bother to remember their real names and sometimes the nicknames he made up made him smile.

"Come in," he called, Running his fingers through his hair.

The door opened slowly, now that wasn't like Mr. Pathetically-small-dick. Mr. Pathetically-small-dick normally rushed in, only to rush out 5 minutes later. The person in the doorway seemed to be hesitating. Draco couldn't identify the man, and leaned to the left to get a better view.

"You can come in now," he called again, this time in a somewhat sweeter voice.

This seemed to help as the man finally moved into the room. Draco's fake sweet smile fell when he saw his new costumer. Utter horror was written all over his face. Standing before him was none other than Harry Potter, savior of the bloody world.

"It's not what you think." The dark haired man said quickly, extremely uncomfortable.

Draco, realizing he was gawping, shut his mouth and sent Harry a glare.

"I've come to tell you that I got you out of here." Harry explained quickly.

At this Draco's eyes widened dramatically. "What? You must be kidding me." he said, utterly stunned. "Why in Merlin's name would you of all people want to get me out of here?"

"I paid the money you still owe that man at the front; you're free," Harry continued, completely ignoring Draco's questions.

This surprised Draco even more; he was tempted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "Potter, I still owe that man over one million galleons." Draco said, beginning to think that Harry might have lost his marbles.

"Well, not anymore." Harry declared, almost happily.

"Potter, you must be drunk. Are you drunk? Have you been using drugs?" Draco asked, getting up from where he was sitting in front of the window and moving closer. Harry shifted nervously as he moved close enough to sniff the man's breath.

"Don't be stupid, of course I haven't." Harry said angrily. When he realized what Draco was doing, he immediately moved backward.

"Then why did you do this for me?" Draco asked, getting angry himself. Although he didn't know why he was getting angry, the dark haired man just had that effect on him.

"Well, because I ran out of charities to give my money to," Harry shrugged, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to help out ones arch enemy. "Merlin, can't you just be thankful this once?"

"I don't want your pity and I certainly don't want to be some charity of yours you brag about," Draco sneered, disgusted by the mere thought of being saved by the savior of the wizarding world.

"Well, the money is paid. What you do is up to you, you can walk away or you can stay here. Although I can't imagine you're enjoying yourself in this godforsaken place," Harry glared, throwing up his arms in anger. His eyes flashed around the room, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Of course the room wasn't anything like the rooms Draco was accustomed to. The room was dark and the lights were red. There was one big bed in the middle of the room, a wardrobe for all the work requisites. A walk in wardrobe for the little clothes he owned and a nasty old bathroom. Draco did like the bath, because it was so old, but never used it. It had little lions' paws and wasn't built in like all the other baths these days. When Draco wasn't working, he spent all his time in the bathroom. It was the only room in the whole place that didn't smell like sex. He hated the smell of his room, especially after the sweaty Mr. Wobbly-tits had paid him a visit.

"Don't be so mentally deficient and tell me what this is really about," Draco spat, knowing for sure that Harry was hiding something. The man's eyes were avoiding his.

"I already told you what this is about!" Harry answered, his eyes widening a bit when he spotted a big bowl of condoms next to the bed.

"Well, I don't believe you. Last time I checked, you and your pathetic little friends were telling me I had myself to thank for all this," Draco argued. He followed Harry's gaze towards the bowl and rolled his eyes. 'Bloody prudish Gryffindors.'

"Alright! Fine, I found out it was my fault and felt guilty," Harry exclaimed.

Draco frowned. 'What in heavens name is the man talking about'. "Potter, you will have to explain that to me. Because I fail to see how this could be your fault, as much as I would like to blame you."

"When I learned that it was your father's perverted little fantasies with boys that put you here, I was reminded of the fact that I put your father in Azkaban. When he broke free I killed him, before he could make things right. So-" Harry rambled, his cheeks flushed.

"Oh, bloody hell. Potter, would you just stop it? If you think like that everything is your fault!" Draco said, beyond irritated. "My father wouldn't have made things right. He was so caught up with pleasing Voldemort that the contract he signed here was completely forgotten by that time. It was his fault; he donated almost all our money to Voldemort's little projects."

"You don't speak very highly of your father anymore. You used to adore him." Harry noted.

"My God, Potter. What do you expect? What would you think if your father signed a contract that clearly stated 'If you fail to pay your debt, your son will be paying it for you by selling himself until the debt is paid'?" Draco whispered harshly, getting upset.

"Maybe he thought it would never come to that," Harry offered.

Draco let out a sigh and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Let's hope he did, I wouldn't like to think he knew this was going to happen to me." Then he snorted, "You know, I should have seen this coming. Even my boyfriends seemed to always mysteriously end up in his bed,"

"I can't believe the Ministry approved of this," Harry said. He was still standing in the middle of the room, looking as if he truly believed he could get some contagious disease if he touched something.

"It was a wizard contract. I had a choice, either this or die. I tried to get out of it, but it wasn't as if the Ministry was jumping to help me. In their eyes I probably deserved it." Draco said, more to himself than to Harry. He was staring to his feet, looking as if he was thinking back in time.

"Well, you're free now." Harry said, as if that solved everything, and maybe it did.

That, however, snapped Draco out of his trance. "No, Potter, I won't have it. I don't want to owe you."

"You won't owe me. It's already done. You're free to go, or free to stay. It's up to you, but if you go you're coming with me first. You look awful; we need to get you checked too and…" Harry was once again in his babbling mode

"Potter! Stop it," Draco growled. "I want you to take that money back and get the hell out of here. I don't need your pity or your care."

"But you need help and I'm not going to take it back, so you do whatever you please. Here's my address and my floo-address. I'll see you… When I see you," With that he apparated out of the building and was gone.

Draco stared at the little piece of parchment in his hand, that had Harry's address scribbled, on it. He growled and looked around his room, white with anger. How dare Harry Potter barge into his life and save him against his will? It was just unheard of, unacceptable in his eyes.

He let out a frustrated groan and stamped his foot childishly out of frustration.

"Mr. Bugwelt is having a fuckin' fit downstairs; he's fuckin' screaming and fuckin' trashing the place because you're leaving." A boy, barely 14 years old, named Harold stepped into his room. He had a thick accent and liked to say 'fuck' a lot.

"He can throw as many fits as he likes, I'm out of here," replied Draco coldly. Oh how he hated that boy, how he hated everyone in this brothel.

"You might want to hide for a bit. You know how fond he is of you. He always says you're his fuckin' pearl." Harold continued babbling, he reminded Draco of the mudblood Creevy brothers, although they would never say 'fuck'.

"And that is not something I'm taking pride in, Harold. Nor am I going to hide for that bastard, I am Draco Malfoy and from now on I will do whatever I damn well please." Draco said haughtily, suddenly overwhelmed by the sense of freedom.

"But you don't have any money, maybe you should work here a bit longer just-"

"Oh stuff it, Harold," Draco interrupted. "It's not going to work. Now would you just get out of my face and let me get out of here."

"Well, fine. I never liked you anyways." Harold said, crossing his arms over his chest and sending him a glare.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Likewise, now sod off. I need to pack my things,"

The boy huffed but left all the same.

Draco's things were quickly packed. He didn't own much he wanted to take: a few trousers, a few t-shirts, and two decent robes. All his work-clothes were piled up on his bed and Draco wondered what to do with them. He certainly didn't want to take them with him and had the urge to throw them in the fire. But knowing that he wouldn't get away with the smell of burned leather, he decided to his leave them there as a present for whoever was next to occupy the room.

Draco looked around the room one more time. "Adieu, Chambre de douleur infernal," he muttered softly. Unknown emotions washed over him, while he desperately tried to gain control over them. 'This is not the time to start acting like a Hufflepuff.'

He could hear the muffled commotion from downstairs through his door. He took a big breath and braced himself for a grand exit to freedom. It still felt a bit surreal that he was finally free to leave, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from getting the hell out of here.

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Harry sat at his kitchen table quietly, eating his tomato soup. Two full days had passed since he had bailed Draco out. He hadn't told any of his friends yet and wasn't planning on telling them anytime soon, either. Unless it was absolutely necessary to do otherwise, he would keep it to himself. He knew how they would react, and didn't feel like provoking that reaction.

They thought Draco deserved it, that it was his own fault he ended up there. Even though they all knew what Lucius had done to his son, it didn't change their minds. Not all of them dared to voice their opinion, but Harry had seen it in their eyes. The pure hatred they felt to anything that was, or once was, 'dark'.

He wondered how it could be that their worlds remained so black and white, while his had turned so grey. After everything that happened during the war, he realized that nothing was black or white, good or bad, light or dark; everything was and had always been grey. Hermione was probably the only one of his friends who shared this opinion. For some reason, although they'd never talked about it, he had a feeling that Sirius knew this too.

Draco Malfoy had been accused of being a Death Eater just after the war. He'd spent about a month in Azkaban, but because there was no evidence they had to let him go. He disappeared from the face of the earth for a couple of weeks, until that one night. They were headed towards a nightclub and there he was standing behind the glass. In no time everybody was talking about it, and they kept talking about it every following Friday night.

Harry couldn't bring himself to laugh, or to make jokes. He just watched, every Friday night, how well Draco Malfoy could hide his shame behind several masks. Then one night Hermione told them what she'd heard at the Ministry, how Draco Malfoy really ended up there and how the Ministry had refused to help him.

From that moment on, Harry couldn't stop thinking about it. He tried to grasp the concept of the utter humiliation Draco was going through, of being out of control and of giving himself to unknown men. By the next Friday Harry's conscious had made up his mind for him. Draco Malfoy could not stay there; no one deserved what Draco was going through. The feeling of guilt and pity gave him the courage to actually execute his plan.

Now, his nights were filled with worry. He knew Draco had too much pride to actually come to him, but he still couldn't push away the feeling. He knew he shouldn't care, he knew he had done everything he could. He knew it was up to Draco now, but it didn't seem to help to know all this. He didn't want to leave his house, afraid Draco would come while he was absent. At the same time he wanted to go and look for Draco and drag him home.

He poured himself another glass of wine and dumped his dishes in the sink. He spent the rest of the evening watching a movie, or rather, watching the screen, because when the movie was over he had absolutely no idea what he had just seen. Drowsy due to the many glasses of wine he consumed that evening, he collapsed on his bed and let sleep take over.

The next morning found Harry nursing a painful headache. The bright sun had no respect for a wizard's hangover. He rolled out of the bed and made his way to the potion cupboard in his bathroom with some difficulty. Luckily found the hangover potion he was looking for almost immediately. His mind cleared slowly and head ache disappeared within minutes. Carefully he opened his eyes and blinked a few times; happy with the results he stepped into the shower.

As he turned off the water he heard something, or rather someone, banging loudly on his front door. With a towel secured around his waist, he quickly made his way downstairs and opened the front door.

"Thank Merlin! What took you so bloody long?" Draco Malfoy marched into his house, looking awfully tired and dirty.

"I just got out of the shower," Harry explained, closing the door while Draco was looking around his hall.

"Right. First thing's first. Potter, this is not because I need your help. This is because I really want a shower and some sleep. It's bloody cold outside and I won't be able to get a proper job if I smell like this."

Harry suppressed a relieved smile and nodded. "Yes, right. Of course, well err… the shower is upstairs and so is a bed." He stuttered, not quite sure what to say. "Just follow me."

Draco nodded and followed Harry up the stairs. "Quite the manor you've got here," he commented.

"Thanks,"

"Why aren't you living in London? Where you used to live," Draco asked.

Harry turned around so abruptly, that Draco almost bumped into him. "How do you know where I used to live?"

"Customers tend to babble a lot," Draco shrugged, "so why did you buy this gigantic place?"

"Too many memories," Harry explained, turning back around and continuing his way up the stairs. He hoped Draco would get the message and not ask any further. Luckily he didn't and followed him silently towards one of the guestrooms.

"Towels and anything else you might need are in that dresser," Harry said, pointing to the dark wooden dresser that was standing in the corner of the large bedroom. "When Ron stays over he always forgets to bring half of his stuff, so I always make sure to have everything he might forget." He turned around to see the disgusted look on Draco's face. "Oh for heaven's sake, it's either clean or new. Don't be such a baby."

"I-" Draco began to defend himself, but Harry wouldn't let him.

"The en-suite bathroom is through that door, not the one next to it, that's a wardrobe. I'm going to make us some breakfast. It will be done in about half an hour, so take a shower and I'll see you downstairs when you're done. Alright? Great." Harry exited the room in quite a rush, obviously uncomfortable.

Draco sighed and looked around. It wasn't what he had expected from Harry at all; it was actually quite tasteful. Far too light in Draco's opinion, but when he got his new wand he could fix the horrible egg-white on the walls. The furniture, however, was made of a dark wood, probably ebony. It reminded Draco of his old wand that they'd snapped when he was arrested.

He ran his fingertips over the wood and sighed, moving his hand to touch the soft silk sheets. It had been such a long time he'd slept underneath silk sheets. He used to pretend to feel the soft, divine feeling of silk when he was still in the brothel. It was funny that he missed the small details of his home, rather than the big ones. He didn't miss his gigantic bed, or any of his luxuries, just the small things that screamed 'home' to him.

Silently and still swimming in memories, he stripped, throwing the dirty clothes in a pile beside the bed. When he was finished he walked to the bathroom, feeling the soft polished wooden floor beneath his feet. The floors in the brothel had often given him splinters, so he had rarely taken off his shoes there.

He turned the tap and waited a few seconds for the warm water to come flowing out. Ever since he'd been in the brothel, he'd been disgusted by the idea of taking a bath. When he'd been lying in the bath on his first night in the brothel, it had suddenly occurred to him that he was lying in his own fluids. His and his customers' body fluids. Taking a bath was fine, in Draco's opinion, as long as one were fairly clean yourself.

So he took showers, lots of showers, but he couldn't push the feeling of being dirty away. It didn't wash away the feeling of being spent. Even now that he was finally free; he couldn't wash the pain or the shame away. He'd imagined this to be so different; he hadn't imagined feeling so used up. As if he'd given everything he was away, and now there was nothing left for himself.

His fingernails dug into his skin. Desperately he tried to scratch the imaginary filthy away. His arms were now covered with red marks as he fell to his knees, sobbing violently. Anger surfaced like bubbles inside of him, bringing up a part in him that had been silent before. It made him curl his fingers into fists. He slammed his fists against the tiles, until he gave into his tiredness and used his hands to stifle his sobs.

* * *

Harry waited for more than an hour, before deciding he had better check on Draco. With a cup of tea in his hand he slowly walked to the guestroom he'd given to Draco and listened at the door. When he didn't hear anything, he hesitantly pushed the door open and peeked inside. He saw a figure lying in the bed and stepped inside to take a closer look.

There he was, Draco Malfoy, sleeping soundly in the big four poster. His blond hair was covering most of the pillow; the way it curled reminded Harry of flowing water. In school, Draco used to paste his hair to his skull and when he was working in the brothel his hair was greasy and damp with sweat and other liquids Harry didn't want to think about, but now… Now it looked soft and slightly darker because it was still a bit wet. Harry wanted to touch it and wrap the curls around his fingers.

Harry looked away from Draco's hair, desperate to find something else to fix his attention on. He noticed that there was one sheet covering the blond's lower body, allowing him to clearly see the curve Draco's back made. Harry put the cup on the dresser and moved closer.

He was terrified he'd wake Draco up, but he couldn't walk away. Never had Harry thought about Draco Malfoy as beautiful, but now he couldn't believe he had ever thought otherwise. This morning he had looked so smug and arrogantly wasted, but now… he looked like an angel, fallen from the skies right into the bed.

The expression on Draco's face was partly hidden by a pillow, but Harry could see it was peaceful. A ghostly smile played on his lips. Then he noticed the red scratch marks on the man's arm. When he looked closer he saw that some of them were still bleeding slightly. Harry sucked in a breath as he realized that this was Draco's own doing and not a sick depravity of one of his clients.

He took his wand and cast a quick healing spell. Draco reacted slightly to the spell; a small smile appeared on his lips but faded away almost immediately. The blond man stirred, and groaned softly.

Harry could probably watch the man until he woke up, but he managed to tear his eyes away from the beautiful scene in front of him. Hastily he exited the room and dashed into his own room. In a state of half shock, brought on by these new feelings for his old adversary, he spent the rest of the morning watching the dark clouds blending together in the sky outside his window.

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Please Review 


	2. Part Two

_**Title:** Passion Spent_

_**Author**: Noirissime_

_**Genre**: Drama_

_**Pairing**: Harry/Draco_

_**Summary**: Because of his father Draco Malfoy now spends his days in a brothel, until an unexpected costumer pays him a visit. HarryDraco. Written **before** HBP._

_**Words**: 4,481_

_**Disclaimer**: None of the characters are mine._

_**Special Thanks to:** Twotwenty & TracyLooWho, my truly amazing betas. _

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_Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

-Rufus Wainwright

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Part two.

Later that morning the doorbell rang and Harry had to give up his thunder watching to open the door.

"Oh, hello Hermione." Harry said, as his heart shot to his throat. The meaningful look on Hermione's face made him nervous.

"Harry, what have you done?" Hermione exclaimed tiredly. She sounded annoyed.

Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped past him into his hall and gave him a questioning look. In her hand she held a newspaper that looked like The Daily Prophet and Harry expected the worst.

"Yes, It's all over the papers," She waved the paper in front of his face angrily. "I know it was you."

"My name's not mentioned?" Harry asked, relieved, as Hermione handed him the newspaper.

"No, but you know it's only a matter of time until they find out. Especially if that Skeeter-woman has anything to do with it," Hermione replied. "She's probably buzzing around as we speak,"

"I know, but it's not like I'm ashamed of what I've done." Harry said, quickly scanning the walls just to be sure. "Do you want some coffee?" He fled to the kitchen, dreading the long conversation he knew was coming. He was thankful Hermione was such a coffee-addict, it was the only way of postponing the conversation.

"That would be very nice. I don't think I even finished my coffee. My morning was completely disrupted the moment I picked up the paper. I wanted to come earlier, but I couldn't squeeze it into my schedule." Hermione said, as she followed Harry through to the kitchen. She sat down on one of the high bar stools, wiping a few crumbs away with her hand.

Harry poured the coffee into two mugs; he knew that Hermione had sugar and a lot of milk in her coffee. Ron always teased her by saying that only girls liked to drink their coffee like that.

"Where is he?" Hermione asked when Harry handed her a mug.

"Upstairs. He's probably still sleeping." Harry replied, opening the rolled up newspaper to read the headlines.

_'Rent boy Draco Malfoy says goodbye to his many lovers, thanks to a mysterious benefactor'_

'_I will definitely miss him, he was such a pretty boy', said one of his clients. How Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, got out of the brothel is still a mystery. We interviewed several boys in this particular brothel, but no one has seen the owner of the many galleons that were left in a large leather bag._

_Draco Malfoy himself left soon after that. No one has seen a sign of the young man, nor does anyone know where he might be…_

"That's yesterday's edition," Hermione said, sipping her coffee. "Today's is underneath."

'_Lover-boy, The true story behind the glass.'_

"Malfoy won't be pleased with that," Harry commented, putting the newspaper down. He opened one of the top cupboards and grabbed his cookie jar.

"Why did you do it, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly. Her fingers tapped softly on his dark stone kitchen counter.

"I don't know. I just couldn't stand watching him any longer." Harry answered, looking into the cookie jar. He quickly took the last chocolate chip cookie out of the jar, before passing the jar on to Hermione.

An amused smile appeared on Hermione's lips as she took one of the plain cookies out of the jar. "Harry, seriously, where are your manners?" she scolded playfully.

Harry smiled back and sipped his coffee. He desperately hoped Hermione would let the topic go. He didn't like to lie to his friends, but he couldn't tell Hermione, of all people, his newly found obsession.

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked. "With Malfoy, I mean."

"We haven't discussed that yet. I don't know how long he will stay here," Harry answered truthfully. When Draco had marched into his house that morning, the man had claimed he was only here for a shower and a bed. But then again, Draco must have had no other option; one does not go to an old rival unless there's absolutely no other option.

"Well, what if he wants to stay?" Hermione asked, taking another two cookies out of the jar. "I haven't had any lunch." She added to excuse herself.

"He'll probably go to some relative," Harry shrugged.

"He hasn't got any family left," Hermione argued.

"Friends, then, he has lots of friends."

Hermione sighed, irritated, "Harry, in which universe do you live? All his _friends _are either in Azkaban or dead, unless he made some new friends at that brothel but somehow I seriously doubt that."

"I don't see why this is such a big deal," Harry said, raising his voice slightly in frustration. "He can stay here if he wants to."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, putting down her coffee with a thud. "You can't be serious about this. This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about. I know the whole school era has passed and we're living in the real world now, but isn't it a bit much to take Draco Malfoy in? He has been nothing but unkind and rude to you since even after we left school."

"Well, I wasn't exactly nice to him either. Besides, he wasn't a Death Eater," Harry said heatedly, "It's time we start acting like adults and put all that ridiculous house rivalry behind us."

"Just because they couldn't prove he was a Death Eater, that doesn't mean he wasn't on their side!" Hermione said so loudly that Harry was afraid Draco might overhear them.

"What is wrong with you?" He hissed angrily. "I am trying to do the right thing, two seconds ago you didn't seem to have a problem with it."

"I just think you're taking this too far, Harry." Hermione said. "Is it because you feel alone here?"

"That has nothing to do with it!" Harry lied.

"Because if that's what's wrong, Ron and I could come over more." Hermione suggested. She had a worried look on her face as she grabbed one of Harry's hands.

"There's nothing wrong," Harry denied, yanking his hand away from Hermione. He hated when she acted like he couldn't take care of himself.

"The more you deny it, the more I know it's true." Hermione said, glaring angrily.

Harry groaned in frustration. "Hermione, please, stay out of this. What I do is my business, I'm a big boy now. You don't have to watch my every move in case I fall; sometimes it's good to fall. I just want to help Malfoy and you know I don't care what others might think."

Hermione sighed, eating her last cookie. "Harry, just be careful. I wouldn't like to find you heartbroken one morning, or worse, dead." She said, as she picked up her briefcase.

"Heartbroken? Who said anything about being heartbroken?" Harry asked, confused, running to catch up with her as she was stepping outside again.

She kissed his cheek and smiled at him affectionately. "I'm your friend, Harry. I'm supposed to know what kind of weird ideas you get into your head." Then she turned around and walked out into his garden, waving one more time before she opened the gate and disappeared.

Harry was still standing in the hall when Draco came gliding down the stairs. Harry looked up and sucked in a deep breath; Draco had obviously worked on his appearance. He had gone from cold and dirty to glamorous and aristocratic. His black robes reflected his pale skin and hair like a pearl in the Deepest waters of the ocean.

"I'm going out," Draco announced when he spotted Harry at the bottom of the stairs.

"I can see that," Harry responded then quickly looked at his shoes.

"Do you think I look good enough like this?" Draco asked, turning around and giving Harry a questioning look.

"Yes, you look… good," Harry stuttered, horrified by his own behavior.

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Just good?"

"More than good. Where are you going?" Harry asked, quickly changing the subject. If Hermione had seen right through him without Draco even being in the same room, he must have the words 'I WANT YOU' tattooed to his forehead at this moment.

"I'm applying for a few jobs. It's not much, but it's a start." Draco explained, taking a last look at himself in the big mirror that was hanging in the hallway. The mirror Harry liked to avoid, it said the most rudest things to him, but he couldn't look away as Draco moved his hands through his hair and straightened his already straight tie.

"Well, good luck, and take one of my umbrellas. It'll probably rain again." Harry said, pointing to a black pot that was filled with umbrellas.

Draco's reflection raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're not going by floo are you? Your clothes will be ruined."

"Good point," Draco said. He turned around and grabbed the only black umbrella in the pot. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you later." With that he stepped out of the door, leaving Harry watching another person walking down to the gate.

"Yes, see you later." Harry smiled, feeling oddly excited. Happily he imagined how it would be if Draco stayed with him. They would say goodbye like this every morning. He would go off to school and Draco would go off to work. They would kiss, there had to be lots of kissing for a proper goodbye. Draco would straighten his tie for him and he would accidentally mess up Draco's tie.

Harry shook his head, forcing himself to snap out of it, but he couldn't stop smiling.

"Bloody Hell, I'm acting like a 15-year old girl."

He almost skipped up the stairs to his study.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, when Harry was having a little nap on top of his book, his ears were violently disturbed by the sound of slamming doors and heavy footsteps on the stairs. He winced when the door next to his study was slammed closed as well. By the sound of it, Draco's applications hadn't gone as planned.

He sighed and stood up, wondering if he should go after Draco. He then decided against it, the man obviously wanted to be alone or he would have come into the study to yell at him.

He pushed the books away, not bothering to put them away properly. With mixed emotions he stood up to make his way to the kitchen. He felt sorry for Draco, but at the same time he was extremely relieved that he would stay with him even if it was just one more day. He knew that Draco would move out as soon as he had money.

He leant against the wall beside Draco's door and heard Draco's heavy breathing through the door. How could he feel this damn happy if Draco, who was just on the other side of the door, felt so miserable? How could he take joy in the fact that Draco had to depend on him because his life was one big mess? He was disgusted by himself. When had he become this lonely soul, yearning for someone to flush all the pain away? He'd always been just fine by himself, not looking for anything deeper than friendship. But now it seemed nothing compared to these images his mind was treasuring and they wouldn't leave him alone.

Angry with himself, he decided it was time to make dinner for them both. He tore himself away from the little sounds Draco was making inside the room and went into the kitchen.

Harry was just setting the table when he heard a soft thumping on the stairs. He kept his eyes on the cutlery, but listened closely to follow the footsteps as they came closer to the kitchen. Harry's heart skipped a few beats as they came to a stop somewhere in the kitchen.

"Fascinating collection of books you've got upstairs,"

Only then did Harry allow himself to turn around. Draco was leaning casually against the doorframe with both his hands in the pockets of a pair of loose grey trousers.

Harry figured that Draco had been in his study. The horrid thought of him seeing his extremely messy bedroom crossed his mind for a split second. "I have to read those for school," Harry said, offering Draco a small smile. He knew better than to ask the man about his day.

Draco's eyes widened slightly. "You're still in school?"

"Yes. I'm studying to be an auror." Harry answered.

"Well, surprise, surprise." Draco smirked. "The thought of you reading books willingly seemed a bit unreal."

"I happen to find Vampirology a very fascinating subject," Harry huffed indignantly.

There was a sudden distant look in Draco's eyes. "Yes, well, don't we all." He said, walking over to Harry. "I remember Vampirology in Defense against the Dark Arts and History of Magic."

"I don't remember having Vampirology in History of Magic, but I don't remember much about History of Magic at all. It's a miracle I passed that subject." Harry said honestly after a moment.

Draco snorted and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "You wouldn't. You're a culture barbarian. You don't see the beauty of history and the interesting details of old legends and myths, just because they don't interest you."

"You can hardly call that interesting!" Harry argued. "It's a load of bull and it's not like you can change anything that happened in the past. Unless the Ministry finally allows time travel."

"I told you that you were a barbarian." Draco said, while Harry walked back to the stove to get his freshly made pasta. "I would have liked to work for the Department of Mysteries. My father took me there once, you know. I've always wanted to become an unspeakable. To research some of the most imponderable and impenetrable mysteries of existence."

"Well why don't you apply there?" Harry asked, carrying the two plates to the table.

"They wouldn't trust me to keep their secrets." Draco almost whispered, while Harry handed him his plate. "Thanks. Besides I haven't got the right education. Other than graduating from Hogwarts, I haven't got any education at all."

"You didn't continued your education?" Harry asked, surprised, sitting down and pouring glasses of red wine for the both of them.

"No, I was in France whilst the war raged over England. I didn't want to have anything to do with the war, simply because I knew I had to choose. I didn't want to pick a side, so I ran. Well, look where that brought me. Now I've got the image 'Rentboy' plastered all over my face and no education. No wonder none of the wizards wanted to hire me today." Draco said bitterly, eating his pasta in between sentences like there was no tomorrow.

"Why don't you go back to school?" Harry suggested.

"School requires money, which I do not have now in case you failed to notice." Draco said harshly.

"I'll pay for your education," Harry blurted out, then realized that he meant what he'd said.

Draco looked up from his plate and locked their eyes together. Shock was written all over his face as he sat back. "You're serious." he stated after a few seconds of gazing into Harry's eyes.

Harry nodded, then grabbed his wine and emptied the glass in one gulp.

"Potter," Draco said, rubbing his eyes. "You know I can't accept that."

"But I want you to," Harry said.

"No!" Draco snapped. "I refuse to be an overrated charity cause."

"You're not a charity cause; I just want to help you." Harry said.

"I don't need your help." Draco spat, angrily. "How do you expect me to accept this? Why the hell are you even offering this to me?"

"I have enough money. You haven't and you're in trouble. So I want to help you by giving you something that hasn't got any value to me, but will make your life so much more bearable." Harry explained heatedly.

"Potter, first you show up out of nowhere and bail me out for millions of galleons. Then you take me into your home and feed me," Draco was shaking with anger, his knuckles were white from clutching the cutlery in his hands. "And now you offer to pay even more for me to make all my wildest dreams come true! It all seems a bit too unrealistic to me, Potter. What do you want from me?"

"Nothing!" Harry exclaimed. "What is wrong with you? Were you always such a suspicious bastard?"

"Oh go to hell, Potter." Draco spat, grabbing his plate and exiting the kitchen.

Harry dropped his cutlery and poured himself another glass of wine. He picked up the glass and bottle and walked into the garden to cool off.

_Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? _

He didn't know how many glasses of wine had disappeared passed his lips after that. It seemed to be the only thing that helped. Finally he dragged himself to bed, forcing himself to walk passed Draco's door. He knew better than to go inside in this state. He would be in trouble, more trouble than he was in now.

* * *

Harry woke up high on post-orgasm ecstasy, groaning in pure bliss, while a small smile conquered his lips. He stretched like a cat, taking a few minutes to wake up properly. Still drowsy, he swung his legs over the side of the bed in search of his glasses and his wand to clean up the mess he had made in his bed whilst dreaming.

He wasn't the slightest bit surprised when he remembered who the object of his nightly affections was. After a few flicks of his wand and a scouring charm, he set off to the kitchen. He was quite hungry after his little adventure in bed. His feet, however, carried him into a whole different direction. He walked slowly, making sure not to make a sound.

Suddenly he was very aware of the fact that he was standing outside Draco's bedroom with his hand on the doorknob. He bit his lip in hesitation. This wasn't one of his brightest ideas.

"I'm just checking if he's alright after last night," he told himself, knowing his motives were of a completely different nature. Lust, not care had driven him to this door. "Just checking." he repeated to himself, as he pushed the door open. The door squeaked alarmingly, it was almost enough to send Harry flying off back to his own room. Almost.

His heart was beating loudly in his chest when he entered. He had to wait a few seconds to let his eyes adapt to the darkness in the room. The darkness, however, did not reveal what he had come here to see. The bed was empty, so was the room he was standing in. His heart leaped as he turned around to face the bathroom door, knowing Draco could be walking out of there any second. And then what would he say.

But nothing happened. Suddenly panic stricken, Harry dashed into the bathroom. It was indeed empty.

He made his way back to the hall and descended the stairs hastily, almost tripping twice and ran towards the kitchen, hearing the loud noise his feet made against the tiles. He turned on the kitchen light with a loud 'lumos' and looked around, he was about to search through the other rooms in the house when he saw the door to the garden was halfway open.

Relief washed over him like a wave when he came closer to the garden door and saw a figure lying on one of his garden benches.

"Finite," he whispered, when he stepped through the door. The lights behind him died out slowly, leaving them both in the darkness of the night. It was cold outside, but it was oddly refreshing after being in the almost suffocating warmth of the house. Quietly he sat down on the bench opposite from Draco, not quite sure how to break the silence. Draco seemed to be ignoring Harry's presence and kept his eyes on the sky above him.

Draco's hair was covering the bench like spilled poison; it was almost Incandescent in the darkness. It was once again calling for Harry's fingers. The blond man's arms were neatly folded over his stomach and his knees were bent over the armrest. His chest was rising and falling in a steady and slow rhythm.

"Hey," Harry said finally, sitting back against the green wood with his arms draped over the top. He too looked at the sky for a second and then looked back to Draco.

Draco sighed and turned his head to look at Harry. "What are you doing here? I though you would be sleeping into next week judging the amount of alcohol you consumed not long ago." He said calmly, turning his gaze back to the sky.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, sliding down into the same position as Draco.

"I'm watching the stars hide behind the clouds," Draco answered, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh." Was all Harry could think of to say.

They both tumbled into a comfortable silence. Neither one of them seemed to have anything important to say. Although Harry was fairly certain that if he went back upstairs he could sleep for a few good hours, he couldn't bring himself to leave Draco. He did not know what to do to help Draco, all he could do was be there. Talking wasn't his thing, he was fairly sure it wasn't Draco's thing either and they weren't close enough to hug or cuddle.

He wondered if Draco wanted him to be there, of course; he couldn't tell him to leave. It was his house after all, but Harry wanted to be _wanted_. A lot of people needed him when the war was raging on, but now it seemed like he was ignored. People didn't shut him out, but they didn't really want him to be there either. It was all so superficial. Their kindness was forged because of the fact that he saved them all, but it was never as profound as he'd wanted it to be. As he had hoped it would be.

Not that it mattered much in the long run. He didn't need them and they didn't need him anymore. Besides, Hermione and Ron always tried to be there for him. They had their own lives to live, but never failed to come and visit him at least twice a week. Of course they all went out for drinks on Friday. He was the only one of his friends still in school. After Hogwarts they'd all started their education, but he had no time to do so. Not that he ever wanted to, then. He had other things on his mind. He had to practice to fight like an auror every hour of the day, every day of the week.

Now he was the one in school, all his friends had moved on to their 'real' lives.

He shifted his gaze between Draco and the sky, never dwelling on either for what would seem to be too long. He would much rather just turn to his side and watch Draco than the sky. As the sky turned into the lighter shades of grey, his eyelids were slowly getting heavier.

* * *

"Potter. I think it's time-" Draco began, but trailed off when he saw that Harry was fast asleep on the bench. How the man had managed to get to sleep in such an uncomfortable position was a mystery to Draco. "So much for appreciating the beauty of a sunrise," He snorted to himself.

He turned to his side and rested his head on his arm, looking at the sleeping Harry more closely. The man's glasses stood slightly crooked on his nose. His hair was an ever bigger mess than normal. He knew boys who used tons of spells to get their hair looking like that. The blond felt a slight affection bubble up for the bedhead beside him and smiled.

To his surprise Harry was wearing green striped pyjamas. Maybe he finally did give into the fact that green really did bring out his eyes.

Draco sighed. He was beautiful, yes, very beautiful, but completely on forbidden territory. Not one part of Harry was he allowed to touch or claim, the man was completely off limits. Unfortunately he had a habit of craving the forbidden.

Draco closed his eyes and sat up, forcing himself to focus on the more important things. He had to get his life back on trail. He had to find a job and an apartment and start from scratch. He wanted to go somewhere he could cut off the past year. Where he could push it to the back of his mind and never be reminded of it.

He never thought he would be filled with so much shame, being with Harry would only increase that shame. Harry knew what he was; Harry couldn't chase it all away. Harry was an object he craved for. He could find another object to crave. He didn't believe in kindness or love. It was an excuse for people to get what they truly want. Countless times his customers had confessed their supposed love to him. Wizards confused Love with lust. If there was truly a thing called love, everyone was abusing the word to get what they so desperately craved for.

He didn't know what Harry wanted, though. But then again he'd never been able to read Harry's true motives. He couldn't believe his ears last night. Harry was right, it was just money. Before his whole heritage was taken away from his, money was just that to him too, _just money. _But then it took away his freedom and chased his dreams away. Now it was what was standing between the image he was and the image he wanted to become. Now that it was lost, it was much more than _just money. _He couldn't let Harry be his savior. He had his pride and to be honest it was too much to push aside.

Draco stood up and slowly walked closer to Harry, bending over him slightly. The all so famous scar was covered by his ebony black hair. The scar that marked him, as his own scars marked him. He looked at the peacefully sleeping Harry more closely and wondered if Harry was really as selfless as he seemed. If he was, he was the only one.

* * *

Reviews will be very much appreciated. For those who read Endless Infatuation, a sequel will be coming out shortly as many of you requested ;0 


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